The Grim Reaper Part Two
by dr. kitten
Summary: Sequel to Part One, taking place during the Raccoon City Outbreak. After the fight with Birkin, HUNK is just trying to get out of the city alive. What he doesn't expect is to meet someone else in the same situation. AU, HUNK/OC.
1. First Meeting

Chapter One: First Meeting

**Okay, welcome to The Grim Reaper (Part Two). For those of you who read the first story, this takes place approximately fifteen years later, making HUNK thirty or so. For those of you who haven't read the first story, this may be a bit confusing at times, but it should be comprehensible. Oh, and in case anyone thinks that I made a mistake with HUNK's nom de guerre, I know very well that it is "Mr. Death" in the American version. But the Japanese version has it as "Shinigami", which means "God of Death" or "Grim Reaper". And I like that one better ... but enough. Thanks for reading, and please enjoy! **

**~ Dr. Kitten**

It was a warm, damp night, and a high breeze carried the stink of death to every corner of Raccoon City. Smoke billowed black against the clear sky from the many fires. As HUNK weaved his way between two wrecked police cars, their lights still flashing in a useless warning, he was glad of the gas mask that covered his face and kept out the foul smell that lingered everywhere.

As he stepped up on the curb, a sharp jab of pain ran through his side and he cursed, grabbing onto a lamppost to keep himself from falling. Damn that Birken, and damn the raw boys they had given him to work with. They were fresh out of training, ignorant and inexperienced, and it had cost them their lives and nearly cost him his. His mission was in the dirt now. All that was left was to limp back to base and try to explain why yet once more, he was the only survivor.

"_Grim Reaper" HUNK … _the nickname echoed bitterly around his mind as he pushed himself upright and kept walking from sheer force of will. It had become a superstition in the U.S.S. by now that anyone who was partnered with him was doomed, a dead man before the mission even began. He might as well shoot them himself.

And in many ways, it was true that the countless deaths of his teammates were his fault. He was never directly responsible, but he didn't save lives either. If someone was in trouble, he wouldn't help. They thought it was because he was cold-hearted, dedicated only to his job.

They had no idea …

HUNK shook his head angrily. Why was he thinking like this?

His body felt like was encompassed by a sheet of fire. Sweat rolled down his forehead and back. He probably had a touch of fever, brought on by dehydration, hunger, and lack of proper medical treatment. He had been lucky enough to avoid getting an open wound from his encounter with the mutated Birken, but his body was battered and bruised, and he was sure that several ribs and his left arm were broken. And he had lain unconscious in a sewer for half-a-day … who knows what vile disease he may have caught. When he got back to base, he'd have to get the Doc to give him a thorough check-up.

But for now, his priority was to _get _back. His radio was miraculously intact, and HQ had given him instructions to get to an extraction point on the other side of town. Not exactly convenient, but there was no future in complaining. He had two days to get there before the military stormed in and blew the city to hell.

However, HUNK was 100% sure that he wouldn't make it as far as the extraction point if he didn't get some food and water fast. It had already been two full days since he'd had any nourishment, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. If he wasn't doing anything more strenuous than hiking in the woods, maybe it would be fine, but he was fighting for his life out here on the streets. He had already killed more than a score of infected citizens (his sensible brain rebelled at the thought of calling them 'zombies' or 'undead', as if this was a cheap horror flick at the local cinema).

He was in the residential district now, and he cased each of the houses in turn, looking for one that might suit his needs. He chose one that was dark inside and still had its front door and all the windows intact. The front door was locked, but that didn't bother him. Normally, he would have kicked it open, but he picked the lock instead. For one thing, the less noise he made right now, the better. Also, he was dead tired, and if he decided to sleep for an hour or two, he wanted to do it in a secure place.

He entered the house with Matilda out and checked the downstairs rooms one by one. All was deserted, so he moved upstairs. It was when he got to the landing that he noticed it: a tiny sound, no more distinct that a mouse moving across the floor. It came from a room on his left.

He walked over and grabbed the door handle with his left hand, ignoring the pain running up his arm, and twisted it, flinging the door open.

He had been expecting one of the infected. What he saw instead was a girl, maybe eighteen, maybe younger, but undeniably alive and well. She was sitting on a bed, her back pressed against the wall and her hands held out protectively in front of her. She gave no cry of terror, but her face was so pale that it almost shone in the darkness.

HUNK holstered Matilda and regarded her silently, wondering what to do. He hadn't expected to find any survivors, let alone a child. Although if she hadn't left this house and nothing had gotten in before him that would explain why she hadn't been infected.

The girl spoke first. "Are you a soldier, sir?" Her voice was low and hushed. She seemed to appreciate the need to be quiet.

"You could say that," said HUNK.

She sat up on the bed, no longer frightened of him. "Please … can you tell me what's going on? Out there, I mean."

"Death," he said. When she gave him a puzzled frown, he shook his head. "Where are your parents, kid?"

She gulped. "Mom works at the front desk of the Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company. Dad went to go pick her up when this all started yesterday. They haven't gotten back yet."

_They're dead then, _he thought, but he didn't say it aloud.

The girl's voice brightened a little as she said, "Well, if the military is here, then everything will be okay. You're going to save us, right?"

"That's not my mission," he replied shortly. _Speaking of my mission, it's time I was on my way. I'm getting nowhere._

He turned to leave, but the motion sent a sickening wave of pain and nausea through his body, and he stiffened, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey, are you okay?" the girl chirped, hopping off the bed and approaching him boldly. "You look hurt."

There was no point in denying it. "I got into a fight."

"There's a first aid kit in the bathroom that you can use," she offered.

HUNK narrowed his eyes. Her generosity seemed quite natural and without ulterior motive. "Thanks," he said, "but bandaids aren't going to help much. My ribs are broken."

She was undeterred. "Well, you can use Dad's ace bandages. I can help. I'm used to wrapping up his ankles."

_This has gone on long enough, _he thought irritably. "No. I'm in a hurry."

But his legs betrayed him by giving way when he'd gone no more than three paces. He sagged over the railing, cursing his ill luck. Of all the houses on the block, he had to pick the one that was occupied. Of all the potential occupants, it had to be an annoyingly helpful girl. And when all he wanted to get out of there and back to business, he had to collapse and reaffirm that he was in need of help.

The girl was already beside him, pulling his arm around her small shoulders and trying to lift him up. She was stronger than she looked, and she actually managed to budge him a couple of inches before he took over, pushing her away.

"I'll follow you," he said firmly. It would be the last straw for his dignity if he had to be supported by a child.

Somehow, he made it to the bathroom, which was back downstairs. The girl lifted a box stuffed with random medical items onto the counter and started fishing through it. After a minute, she located the ace bandages at the bottom of the pile, and set them out on the counter.

"Okay," she said, turning to him. "Take off your shirt."

HUNK would have liked to push her out of the bathroom and shut the door in her face, but it was a tiny, cramped space she was all the way in the back of it, practically standing in the shower. He pulled off his gas mask, setting in carefully on the counter. His tac vest and black shirt followed. In the mirror, he scrutinized his abdomen. An incredible array of blacks, blues, and dark reds flowered across his pale skin. No wonder he was so sore.

The girl gave a little gasp of shock at the sight. "What happened to you?" she asked, shuffling through the box again. This time she came out with a bent tube of arnica cream, which she handed to him. He pulled off his gloved and, with a little difficulty, smeared the cream across his bruises.

"I got in a fight," he repeated.

"Was your opponent King Kong?" she asked, with a fairly straight face.

"Not far off."

The girl giggled. "By the way, my name's Annabelle Leigh. Laugh all you want. I know it's kind of funny. My Mom is a big Poe fan. I guess I'm lucky that she didn't name me Ulalume. Anyway, you can call me Anne for short, or Belle, whichever you prefer."

HUNK flinched. _I'm not going to be calling you either, _he thought.

"What's your name?" Annabelle asked.

"HUNK," he replied.

She giggled again. "O-_kay_. Should I call you _Mr. Hunk_, or is it your first name."

"It's my codename."

"Oh! Cool! Kind of like James Bond."

HUNK suddenly realized that she had been moving slowly closer the whole time they were talking, until she was standing only inches away from him. She had an ace bandage in her hand, and she reached out to start wrapping it around his chest. He snatched it deftly from her hands.

"I can do that."

She looked dubious. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He paused for a moment. She was still watching him. "Isn't there anything else you could do besides staring at me?"

Annabelle blushed and looked away. "Um … I guess I should make myself some food. Do you … would you like some?"

"Sure." It would save him the trouble of breaking into a different house.

"Okay." She pushed past him and disappeared.

Securing the ace bandage by himself was painful, but he managed it with a few curses. Slipping his shirt and vest back on, he reflected that his ribs were already a bit less painful. Maybe this detour hadn't been such a bad idea after all.


	2. Attack

Chapter Two: Attack

**Wow - a pretty good reception already! Much thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's so nice to get feedback/complements. Please enjoy the next installment! **

Before HUNK left the bathroom, he tidied up and tucked the box of medical sundries back under the sink. It was a meaningless gesture, but it went against his nature to leave behind a mess.

Annabelle was humming under her breath as she stood at the stove, stirring something in a frying pan. It smelled a little like Chinese food. A big golden retriever was sitting at her feet, sweeping the floor with his tail and gazing fixedly upwards at the stove. Clearly, he was expecting a portion of the meal.

When HUNK entered the kitchen, the dog turned his head and rose to his feet, a growl rumbling in his throat. Annabelle put her hand on his head and said, "Auguste, stop it! He's a guest."

_More like an intruder, _thought HUNK.

Under the sharp, florescent lighting, he was finally able to get a good look at the Annabelle. She was of medium height and slightly built, with slender limbs and a neat figure. Her hair was short and blonde, with a few streaks of pink, and at the moment, it was sticking out in all directions. Her face was round and well-formed, and she would normally have been quite pretty, but the strain of the last day was very evident in her weary, bloodshot blue eyes, with darkened skin underneath.

"Please, sit down," she said, gesturing towards a chair with her spatula. He did so, glancing around the room. It showed every sign of belonging to a typical middle-class American family: the nice, modern decorum, the fridge covered with pictures, the dog bowl in the corner.

"Oh, meet Auguste," Annabelle said, petting the retriever's head. "His full name is _Le Chevalier _C. Auguste Dupin, but that's a little hard to get out every time we want to call him in to dinner, so we just call him Auguste for short."

HUNK nodded.

"Do you have any pets, Mr. … uh … sir?" Clearly she was not comfortable with the idea of calling him by his codename.

HUNK shook his head.

This one-sided conversation went on for several more minutes, while she finished cooking and served up the food. It was a stir-fry made with chow mein noodles, chicken pieces, and various vegetables: a little outside of HUNK's normal diet, but he didn't care. Early in his childhood, he had developed the ability to eat anything and everything without really concentrating on the taste, making even the most unpalatable slop edible to him. He looked at food as nothing more than fuel for his body, no different than gasoline for a car or gunpowder for a pistol. It kept him running.

He was hungry now, and he polished off the first generous serving in under a minute. As he ate the last bite, he heard a mournful whine by his elbow, and looked down to see Auguste staring up at him with liquid eyes.

"Wow, you must be starving," Annabelle commented, filling up his plate directly from the frying pan. She herself ate like a bird. If that was her normal habit, HUNK reflected, it was amazing that she had any flesh on her bones at all.

He washed down two helpings of stirfry with a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen that he had taken from a bottle in the bathroom. Then, putting his gasmask back on, he stood up.

"Thanks for the food and the bandages," he said gruffly. "I'll be on my way now. My advice is to continue to stay in the house." He thought for a moment. She had shown him a lot of kindness. "On second thought, do you have a basement?"

"Yes."

"Grab everything you might need to survive, get down there, and lock the door. Don't come back out until someone comes to get you."

She looked a little startled. "Can't I come with you, sir? I thought … I hoped that maybe you'd be able to help me find my parents."

"Absolutely not," he replied, alarmed at the thought. "I have a job to do, and it doesn't include playing bodyguard for a kid."

"But aren't you a soldier?" she protested. "Aren't you supposed to save lives?"

He laughed humorlessly. "I don't save lives. I take them." _Don't deceive yourself, little girl. I'm not one of the good guys._

Before she could say anything else, however, Auguste began to bark in the direction of the window. HUNK could hear faint screaming from outside.

"Shut that dog up," he snapped, running to the window and looking out. The street was dark, but he could make out two people sprinting down it. One was a woman, and the other a child of less than ten. It was they who were screaming.

A feral roar echoed down the street after them, and a hulking shape barreled into view. It was vaguely humanoid, but the upper body was far too thick, the back hunched and the head jutting forward from the spine. It ran like a predator, and the two helpless people were without a doubt its prey.

As HUNK watched, it gave a massive leap and landed directly on the woman's back, bowling her over. It then proceeded to tear at her as she lay on the ground, while the child stood nearby and wailed.

"Oh my God!" Annabelle exclaimed. "Don't just stand here. Help them!"

He gave her a cold look. "Too risky. The woman's already a goner, and that thing will probably get the kid before I could even get outside."

Her eyes were welling up with angry tears. "How can you be so selfish and cowardly? You're not even going to try? I don't believe it!"

And before he could reply, she had grabbed the toaster sitting on the counter, smashed the window with it, and scrambled out onto the lawn. She picked up a fist-sized rock and chucked it at the creature. It fell short, but the sound of it striking the asphalt was enough to distract the thing from the woman it was mauling. It looked up sharply, narrowing its red eyes.

"Hey, over here!" Annabelle shouted. "Yeah, that's right!"

"Idiot!" HUNK hissed under his breath. He vaulted over the windowsill, drew Matilda, and calmly took aim at the creature's head. As it thundered forward, he emptied half a clip right between its eyes. It shuddered a few times, roaring and swinging its deformed hands that were armed with seven-inch razor sharp claws. Then it collapsed on its face, unmoving. HUNK walked over and kicked it to make sure it was really dead.

Turning to Annabelle, he said, "That was pretty stupid. Do you _want_ to end up as B.O.W. food?"

"B.O.W.?" she repeated, blinking.

"Biological Weapon."

"Oh, right. Of course I don't, but someone had to do something! And you were just standing there." She walked past him and over to the dead woman. She crouched down and closed the woman's eyes. Then she looked up at the child, who was staring soundlessly at the mutilated corpse. His face was white and rigid.

Annabelle took his hand and led him away, back to her front yard. "Come on, honey," she murmured encouragingly. "Come on, I'll take care of you. What's your name?"

The boy didn't answer. His eyes were huge and unfocused, and he tripped a little as he walked.

Annabelle marched right up to HUNK and glared defiantly at him for a moment. He looked blandly back at her through his gasmask.

"Thanks," she said after a minute.

He'd been expecting another reprimand. "Huh?"

"You saved my life. Even though you said that you don't save lives."

"I was just eliminating a problem," he replied. "Since you'd already attracted its attention, I was going to have to deal with it one way or another."

She looked a little put out. "Oh. Well, thanks anyway. I guess you'll be heading off on your own now to complete your mission or whatever."

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah."

"Well, I've decided that I'm going to go and find my parents … by myself, if I have to."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "Stay here where you're safe. You'll just get yourself killed out there, like you almost did just now."

Annabelle just smiled and leaned through the broken-out window to grab a meat cleaver from the knife rack on the kitchen counter. "Come on, Auguste," she wheedled. The golden retriever jumped up and through the window, knocking its tail against HUNK's leg as it panted happily.

"See you around … maybe," she said. Holding the knife in her left hand and gripping the boy's hand with her right, she started off down the street.

HUNK sighed deeply and caught up with her. It seemed that he wasn't going to be able to get rid of her just yet.

"Why are you following me?" she asked. "I thought you didn't want to help me."

"I don't," he said. "But my mission destination lies in the same direction that you're heading. Don't get any ideas, though. If you get in trouble, you're on your own."


	3. Sensitive

Chapter Three: Sensitive

**Sorry about the little delay there. I've had a busy weekend, but here's the next chapter, and I'll try to be more regular in the future! Things are heating up a little bit ... I hope that no one thinks I'm adding in pointless angst and drama ... I realize it may seem that way, but my rationalization is that HUNK already let his guard down once and allowed himself to care, and he got hurt, so he's not going to want to do it again. Anyway, enjoy! (And leave a review!) Oh yes, and the creature in the last chapter WAS supposed to be a Hunter :)  
**

It was an odd grouping, HUNK thought with rueful amusement as he led the way down the silent street. A woman barely out of girlhood armed with a kitchen knife, a golden retriever, a mute and traumatized boy not yet ten years old, and himself, a ruthless killer-for-hire unexpectedly thrown into the position of a mother duck trooping at the head of a line of dependents. Totally incongruous with how his missions normally played out. He imagined how the assholes at HQ would laugh if they could see it.

_Why? _he wondered. _Why did I let myself get dragged into this? I could have taken a longer way around. I could have forced the girl to stay behind, or let the B.O.W. tear her guts out. So why did it turn out like this. _

The answer came to him in a flash of realization, and it wasn't one that he liked. It had been a long time since someone had shown him that same unconditionally kindness that was so characteristic of _her_. It had been a long time since someone had yelled at him for being callous the way _she _used to. And it had been a long time since he felt that deep, primal instinct to protect someone and keep them from harm, the instinct that made him jump headlong into a fight regardless of the danger, the instinct that made him kill out of fury rather than necessity.

It had been fifteen years now, but the memory of Bella was still a live coal in the ashes of his mind, burning him when he least anticipated it. And how it burned, a constant reminder of the one life, out of all the ones that had been extinguished by him, that he desperately wished he could return.

He turned his head briefly to look at Annabelle, and the expression of her face, that tense alertness, uncertain yet determined, struck such a chord that he almost spoke, almost blurted out, "You remind me of _her_." But the words caught in his throat as a strong stink of decay, detectible even through his mask, wafted suddenly through the air. Infected citizens - seven of them he judged by a quick count - were shambling towards him from a side alley that he had just passed.

Matilda was in his hand in a heartbeat; he aimed and fired, needing only one shot per enemy despite the poor lighting. One, two, three … he counted them off as they fell. Four, five, six, seven … that was all.

He was mildly surprised (but not startled!) when a sheet of corrugated fiberglass leaning against the wall to his right shifted suddenly and an eighth infected lurched out, arms extended. The proximity was too close, and it had its rotting hands around his neck before he could shoot it. Its lower jaw had been half torn off and was dangling uselessly by a few threads of skin and muscle; drool mixed with blood and slime dripped onto his uniform as it brought its face close. Its ruined jaw rendered it unable to bite him, so he was in no real trouble, but its overwhelming instinct to consume warm flesh made it try anyway, and it gnawed uselessly on the side of his gasmask.

He had dropped Matilda in favor of CQC at this range, and he was just bringing up his hands to snap the creature's neck when a meat cleaver appeared in the top of its head, where one had certainly not been moments before. The infected groaned and slumped to the ground as Annabelle jerked her knife free.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trembling and ashen-faced. "That … that _thing _was trying to eat you!"

"Well, it wasn't succeeding," HUNK snapped, leaning down to pick up his discarded sidearm. "I had that situation under control. There was no need for you to interfere. In the future, stay back and let me do my job."

"And just exactly what _is _your job?" Annabelle demanded. "Why are you here, HUNK?"

"That's not something you need to know," he replied, turning away and shooting the eighth infected in the head just to ensure that it remained down. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was officially over.

"Pardon me, but I think it is," said Annabelle, firmly. He had to admire her spunk; not many people he knew would risk talking to him like that, and all of them were full-grown men. But admiration or no, he had to put a stop to this sort of behavior.

In less time that it took to take a breath, he had spun around, crossed the few feet between them with a single stride, and had the girl pressed up against the wall with his forearm, one hand gripping her shoulder with just enough force to make it clear that the was in charge, but not enough to actually hurt her.

"Listen up, girl," he growled. "I'm only going to tell you once. When I say something, I mean it. What I'm doing here is none of your business. Now you can accept that and we can continue in peace, or you can keep pushing, in which case I'll go my own way. Which will it be?"

Annabelle took an exceptionally long time to answer, and HUNK began to get the somewhat disturbing impression that she did not find him intimidating. Perhaps it had been a mistake to show weakness in front of her after all.

At last, the girl raised her hands and placed them on his arm, pushing him away as she said, "Fine. I won't ask you any more questions."

He could have held her there for longer (she was no match for the brute strength he'd spent his whole life developing), but he already knew it was fruitless. He let her go and turned away.

"Good. Come on, then."

They continued in silence for a while, and while Annabelle was not _quite _sulking, she seemed to be making an effort to avoid catching his eye. HUNK was just beginning to wonder whether it would not, in fact, be better to take his own route and leave girl, boy, and dog to their inevitable fates when he saw the Umbrella Lab, rising up above the low buildings around it like an emperor ruling over peasants.

"There it is," he said, jerking his head towards it. "You're on your own."

But Annabelle was frozen in place, staring at the street in front of the lab with wide eyes. She had a good reason; it was teeming with infected. Fifty at least, probably more. Most of them wandered in circles or stood still, but a few of them seemed to be convulsing strangely, their skin flushing a deep, brick red as they jerked and shuddered. As HUNK watched, one of them suddenly bolted across the street. Its pace was much faster than the normal infected he was accustomed to.

"Oh … my … God," Annabelle whispered.

HUNK had to admit that even he would think twice before taking on so many infected. Maybe if his team was still alive they would be able to force their way through with sheer firepower and aggressive tactics, but by himself … he wasn't keen on it. And sending a solitary girl with a kitchen knife into that situation would be like feeding a mouse to a crowd of hungry snakes.

"Going in there would be suicidal," he said flatly. "Turn back. You can probably make it back to your house safely."

Her lips were quivering, but she pressed them together firmly. "No way. I've come this far, and I'm not quitting now. My _parents _are in there! Would you abandon your parents?"

"I never knew my parents," he replied.

That shut her up, and he was surprised to see sympathy in her eyes. He really didn't understand what was so great about having parents. If anything, it sounded like an annoyance, and he couldn't make himself feel any regret for not knowing his own.

"Look," he said, his tone softening a little. "I can't help you any more. I've wasted enough time as it is. Go back to your house and get down in the basement."

With classic bad timing, the radio on his belt cracked, and a voice said, "HUNK, are you there? This is HQ. Respond. This is urgent. Repeat, this is urgent. Respond. Over."

He grabbed the radio and flipped the switch. "HUNK here," he growled into the speaker. "What is it, HQ? Over."

"How close are you to the extraction point? Over."

HUNK did some quick calculations. "I could be there in less than an hour. Why, what's the rush? Over."

"The spread of the T-virus infection is rapidly outstripping our previous estimation," the voice said. "The military has given orders to deploy the bomb prematurely. You have three hours to get clear. The chopper will be on standby. Radio in when you arrive at the extraction point. Over." The line was cut.

HUNK placed the radio back on his belt with a furious curse. He didn't like this at all. He liked even less the way Annabelle was staring at him with betrayal in her eyes. He unconsciously took a step back.

"What was that?" she hissed. "The army is going to drop a _bomb _on the city and you're telling me to hide in a basement? What the hell is wrong with you? You could at least have warned me!"

"I did the best I could without divulging sensitive information." The excuse sounded pitiful even to him.

"Sensitive information like the fact that you were going to let them _nuke _the city without so much as a by-the-way!" Her voice had been steadily rising and the last words were practically a scream. HUNK clamped a hand over her mouth before the stupid girl could make their position known to every infected in the area.

"Why should I go out of my way to help you?" he asked coldly. "I don't owe you anything."

"What about everything I did to help you when you stumbled into my house and practically passed out in my room?" she spat. "Have you forgotten about all that?"

"I never asked for your help, did I?" he replied.

She grabbed him by the collar, and he would have burst out laughing at her attempt to bully him if it hadn't pissed him off so much. He slapped her hands away, not bothering to temper the blow. Annabelle winced, and Auguste let out an angry growl at the sight of his mistress in pain.

It was now Annabelle's turn to back away from him as he advanced on her. She pressed up against the wall, and there was real fear in her eyes now. But he mastered his anger with a few deep breaths and turned away. He had no desire to hurt her.

"I'm sorry if you don't like it," he said after a minute, "but that's the way it is. I've already told you, I'm not here to save lives or help people."

"Yeah, I should have figured that out already," she said. Her tone was resigned. "I guess I just kind of hoped that you weren't so bad after all."

He didn't know what to make of that, so he said nothing.

Annabelle raised a hand and even smiled a bit, although it was strained. "Well, see you around, HUNK."

"It's Jan." The words were out before he even realized he was saying them. Annabelle looked confused.

"What's that?"

"My name," he clarified. " It's Jan Wittman."

She nodded. "Oh, okay. Well, see you, Jan. Or not. But either way, thanks for saving me earlier. I _do _owe you my life, even if you weren't going to tell me about the bomb."

"Mmm," he grunted.

Annabelle fidgeted for a few moments, and then abruptly extended her right hand. It took Jan a moment to figure out that she was offering it for a handshake. He took it, shook it firmly once, and then let go. Turning his back, he walked away down the street.


	4. From Bad to Worse

Chapter Four: From Bad to Worse

**Truly sorry about the long delay between chapters. I have been hideously busy, and didn't have much inspiration to write until today. So I hope you all haven't lost interest. Incidentally, has anyone thought it odd that there aren't any kid zombies in RE games? Weren't there any children in Raccoon City? Anyway, that's beside the point. On to the story. As always, thanks for the support! Enjoy!**

Before Jan had taken ten steps, however, a huge form crashed down onto the street in front of him, landing in a crouch before rising to its full menacing height of eight feet. It was clad in a black longcoat, and above that was a pale dome of a head, bald and skeletal, with eyes that glittered red in the dark. Jan took an involuntary step backward at the sight of it.

The creature - although it was human in shape, it could hardly be called a _man _- took a giant step forward, lead-soled boots thumping on the asphalt. Jan swore, recognizing the intent to kill in its eyes, and quickly backed up, drawing Matilda and unloading the full clip into the thing's chest without effect. At this close of range, the bullets would have punched their way through a solid wall, but the longcoat was apparently made of some pretty impressive material.

Jan barely had time to register the situation as "bad" before a huge hand swept across his field of vision. He felt his feet leave the ground, and he sailed effortlessly backwards and crashed into a wall. There was a distinct sound of protest from his broken ribs, and he bit his lip to hold back a gasp of pain. He could taste blood.

_Shit! Oh, not good … _

Before he could stagger to his feet again, the monstrous form jumped - a leap that would make any Olympic athlete cry with joy - and landed right in front of him. Its hand clamped down on his head and lifted him bodily up, holding him suspended in the air. As he struggled futilely, Jan was intensely grateful for his helmet. Without it, his head would have been crushed like an egg.

Distantly, he heard someone shout. He couldn't hear properly, but he thought the words were something like, "Let him go!" Whether or not that was correct, the creature did drop him a moment later. He landed on his feet, jammed another clip into Matilda, and was ready to fire again within three seconds.

But the creature's attention was no longer on him; it was focused on Annabelle. The brainless girl, instead of running as fast as she could in the other direction, had actually come over and attacked it. She hadn't done any damage, of course, but she had distracted it enough to make it release Jan.

With a roar, it swung a massive arm at her. She dodged it with a well-timed backflip, but unfortunately, she hadn't anticipated the thing's follow-up, and its second strike knocked her flat.

"Over here, asshole!" Jan cried sharply, firing at the creature a few times before it could stomp on her. He didn't bother to aim at the coat any more, just going straight for the head. It was still less effective than he had hoped, but at least it did some damage. More importantly, the creature swiveled yet again to face him. It didn't seem to have a lot of brains, Jan reflected.

He rolled out of the way as it attacked again, unloading a few more bullets into its head. God damn, he thought, it's skull has to be made of pure titanium. He wondered if he would even be able to kill it, and realized that he probably would not. Not with the amount of ammo that he had on him now, anyway. His best option at this point was to run.

He had already used all of his frag grenades in the fight against Birkin, but he still had a flashbang left. It was totally harmless, but it might at least prove a good distraction. He pulled the pin and flung it as far away as he could.

When the ear-splitting noise came, the creature predictably turned to face it and then stomped off down the street. Jan grabbed Annabelle's hand and hauled her upright. She groaned, but he had no time to be gentle. He had to get them out of there _now_.

"Wait!" Annabelle hissed, standing her ground as he tried to drag her down a nearby alleyway.

He gave her an irritated look. "_What_?"

"Auguste and the boy! We can't leave them!"

Oh. He'd completely forgotten about the dog and the little waif. The kid was trembling next to a dumpster, his arms wrapped tightly around his thin body. Auguste was standing in front of him, crouched in preparation for a fight. He seemed to be taking his duties as a protector very seriously.

Annabelle whistled softly. "Come, Auguste! Come on! Good boy!"

The golden retriever bounded half-way across the street before stopping to look back. The boy hadn't moved. Auguste barked once, but got no response. Jan guessed that the kid was terrified beyond the capacity to move.

"Useless," he muttered. "Stay here and keep your head down." He sprinted back to the dumpster and unceremoniously grabbed the kid, throwing him over his shoulder and dashing away again before the creature could lose interest in his flashbang and come after them again.

Annabelle held out her arms for the boy, and Jan handed him over. Taking the lead, he set off down the alley, keeping an ear open for roaring coming from behind them.

At the end of the narrow passage, he took a right, shooting a few more infected that were skulking around. The pathway looked clear, apart from two mangled bodies. Their heads were missing, and their intestines spilled out onto the ground from gaping holes in their stomachs. Annabelle averted her head and made a little retching noise in her throat as they passed by.

Jan looked back to make sure they weren't being followed. His attention was only occupied for a split second, but when he turned around again, there was a swarm of the unusual red-skinned infected that he had seen earlier in front of the lab. But these ones weren't running aimlessly in circles; they were heading straight for him.

He put a bullet between the first one's opaque eyes, cracked the second over the head with the butt of his pistol, and tripped up the third one, bringing his foot down on its head with all the force he could muster. Its skull cracked, and rotting brains squished under his boot.

The fourth one spat some kind of green slime at him. Its aim was impressive, and his vision was completely obscured as the stuff clogged up the eyeholes on his mask. He scrubbed at it with his left hand, blind-firing in the direction of the infected. Annabelle seemed to understand the situation; she shouted, "Aim higher! About a foot higher!" He followed the directions and heard a thump as the infected collapsed.

But their seemed to be no end to the swarm, and Jan realized that he had no choice but to retreat. He back slowly away, keeping up a steady stream of bullets from his gun. Shit, what a way to waste ammo. These red infected were tougher than the others; it took several rounds to take one down, and they were faster too.

There was a crash from just behind him, and he glanced around to see that a door that had been tightly closed when they first came through had just broken apart under the strain of about six more infected pushing against it. The leader of them grabbed onto Annabelle before Jan could do anything about it. He kicked it off, shouting, "Get back! Get away from here! Hurry!"

Then he was seized from the side. His elbow came around quickly, but there were just too many of them, and he was borne to the ground. Countless hands tugged at his clothes, trying to find a purchase on his body so they could sink their teeth in and start their meal.

Jan gritted his teeth. _No! I will _not _let this be how it ends! I promised Bella I would survive no matter what, and that's what I'm damn well going to do! _

He ripped the last flashbang from his belt and tore out the pin, shoving it through a gap in the mass of dead bodies surrounding him. The resulting blast of light and sound was intense, burning his eyes even through his protective mask. The horde of red infected released him and staggered back, their voices exploding in ugly shrieks. It seemed they weren't too fond of brightness or loud noises.

Jan took the opportunity, knowing that he wouldn't have long. Scrambling upright, he looked around for Annabelle. She was crouched on the ground nearby, clutching her arm. He grabbed a handful of her shirt and dragged her upright. The silent boy, for once, was right next to her, clinging to her waist with his small hands. Jan pushed the pair of them in front of him through the doorway that the infected had broken out of. There was a set of stairs ahead of them, and he made them climb it.

The door at the top was still intact, and after he opened it and cleared the room, he pushed the heaviest thing he could find in front of it and hoped it would hold up under a serious assault. He could already hear the first dragging steps of the infected on the staircase.

The place they were in now looked like a poor family's apartment complex. Kids' toys were scattered all over the floor, and Jan kicked them out of the way as he moved around. He checked the kitchen, the two bedrooms, the tiny bathroom, and the small outside balcony, but it was all deserted. Perhaps the family in question had gone on vacation before this whole mess started. Or perhaps they were all dead.

He returned to the living room. Auguste was busy marking a potted cactus in the corner as his property, but for some reason, Annabelle wasn't scolding him. Instead, she was lying on her side on the couch, her legs dangling over the edge. Her face was an unhealthy pallor, and Jan felt the first prickle of unease.

"You okay?" he asked, walking over to her. She looked up at him as though she was seeing through a haze, and managed a weary smile.

"Yeah. Fine. Just tired out, that's all. It's been a hard day."

He almost chuckled, but her breathing was ragged and way too fast, and there was a fine dew of sweat on her brow.

"Want some water?" he asked.

Annabelle nodded. He got a glass from the cupboard, checked to make sure it was clean, and held it under the tap. But the water that came out smelled foul, like something had died in it, so he tried the fridge instead. There was a six-pack of unopened coca colas, so he retrieved one and brought it back to her, cracking open the top.

"I don't usually drink soda," she protested, sitting up a little to take it from him. "It's bad for your teeth." She took a deep gulp, then held it out to the boy, who was standing silent nearby, staring at her. "Want some, sweetie?"

But as he reached out to take it, she was seized by a fit of coughing. The can fell from her hand and hit the floor, spilling bubbling pools of coke everywhere. Annabelle tried to apologize through her gasps for breath, her right hand pressed to her chest. Her left arm, Jan noticed, lay suspiciously limp at her side.

Reaching out, he lifted the limb gently and rolled up her sleeve. He already had a good idea of what he would find, but he had been hoping that it wasn't true, that she was just tired and maybe a little sick. She could have caught a cold, right?

But as the fabric went above her elbow, it was revealed: a bite mark oozing blood, in the exact shape of a set of human teeth.


	5. Terror

Chapter Five: Terror

**As usual, sorry about the wait. Hope this chapter makes up for it. Thanks for all the reviews! I appreciate that there's still reader interest in this story, sporadic as my updates are. Well, enjoy!**

"When did this happen?" Jan demanded as he tied strips of cloth in a tourniquet around her upper arm to cut off the flow of blood and slow the spread of the virus. He had already cleaned and disinfected the wound as thoroughly as he could with the inadequate supplies he found in the apartment.

"While you were … down on the … ground," Annabelle said between short, painful breaths. "One of them grabbed me and … bit me before I could … do anything about it."

_Shit … less than five minutes ago, and the infection is already this advanced. What the hell is Umbrella playing at? This kind of weapon is way too dangerous and uncontrollable. _

"Am I going to die?" Annabelle asked quietly. Jan gave her a scrutinizing stare, but her face was perfectly calm and composed. There was only the suggestion of fear in her clenched hands and tight jaw.

"Maybe," he said gruffly. "I'll do what I can for you, but I wasn't prepared for this."

"Please … you won't let me turn into one of those … _things _… will you? If it comes down to it … I'd rather just shoot myself … in the head."

"Don't worry about that, and don't give up yet," said Jan. "If we can get into the Umbrella Lab, we might still have a chance of getting you the antivirus. I know they have samples of that." He stopped abruptly, wondering when he had decided to help her. It would have been so easy to kill her now and get his mission over with. He had no obligation to save her.

But she was looking at him with mute hope and trust in her eyes. Damn, why did she have to rely on him like that? Bella used to have the same expression, and look what had happened to her.

Against his better judgment, he pulled Annabelle to her feet and said, "Let's go. We need to move fast."

"I don't know if I can make it," she mumbled, swaying on her feet. "Maybe I should … stay here and wait for you."

"You'd be dead before I got back," he said bluntly.

"But … the lab …"

"There's a back door. I have clearance."

He was already striding towards the door, and it caught him off guard when she suddenly balked and exclaimed, "You work for_ Umbrella_?"

Jan sighed. He really didn't need this right now. "Yes. Can we get moving now?"

He half-expected her to start ranting about how he was a monster and responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent civilians, etc. etc., but she just narrowed her eyes and nodded. He wasn't fooled though; she was just saving this little bullet to fire at a time when it would be most effective.

The street was mostly deserted when they got down to it. There were just two stray infected, one crawling on its stomach and one walking stupidly against a wall. Jan dispatched both of them with a baseball bat he'd found inside the apartment. No sense in wasting precious ammo to kill weaklings.

Briefly, he wondered where the other infected had disappeared to. He didn't see any bodies, so they couldn't have been killed. Perhaps, he thought, they had been lured off by some other prey.

He looked back at Annabelle, who was leaning heavily on the boy. She gave him a shaky thumbs up. He nodded curtly in return and took a left, heading back towards the Umbrella lab.

"Why are you … going to such trouble over me?" Annabelle panted from behind him. She sounded resentfully curious. It seemed like she had developed a pretty low opinion of him from their limited interaction. Jan couldn't blame her. He wasn't the sort of guy that people found likeable.

He thought of several brush-offs he could throw at her: _I have my reasons, I've got nothing better to do, etc._, but for some reason he felt like being a little more frank.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," he said.

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "Who?"

"An old friend."

"You have friends?" Her tone was wry. Jan made no protest, but a moment later, she said, "I'm sorry … that was unnecessary. I'm not trying to be a bitch or anything. I appreciate everything you've done for me."

Jan shrugged.

"I was just surprised to hear to admit you care about anything," she continued. "You seem like a lone wolf sort of guy. With a badass complex and a total lack of regard for human life. … Sorry, I'm doing it again. I'll just shut up now."

"You're not wrong about me," Jan said emotionlessly.

"Still, I don't think you're as horrible as you pretend to be," she shot back. "You've pulled my chestnuts out of the fire every time I've needed help."

He didn't reply, being uncomfortably aware that it was true. He had broken his own code of noninterference, and deliberately gone out of his way to keep her safe. He could only excuse it by saying that it was messing with his head to encounter a girl who was so reminiscent of _her_.

"So who was this old friend of yours?" Annabelle asked, once again prying way too far into his business.

"Enough with the personal questions," he growled. He wasn't really trying to intimidate her (that hadn't worked anyway), but he did want her to leave him alone. To his relief, she seemed to get the message, for she didn't speak again.

Even walking as fast as Annabelle could manage, it took them fifteen minutes to get back to the lab. By that time, the girl's face had gone from white to grey, and if it wasn't for the vivid blue eyes flickering in her face, she would look disturbing like a corpse. Her breathing was more constricted than ever, and her left arm was alarmingly swollen. Jan unwrapped the bandage to check on the wound; the infection sight was greenish and festering and already beginning to smell of rot.

"Not very pretty," Annabelle observed with a rueful smile.

Jan replied, "I've seen worse." It was true, but he didn't mention that he was thinking chiefly of his experiences with other victims of Umbrella's experiments. Two of the girls that he had trained with had been given to the lab after their failure to kill one another in the final test of their program. One of them had died early on in the injection process, but the other had undergone a series of increasingly painful and horrific mutations, and lost her mind in the process. She had eventually been destroyed by the company for the reason that she was too unreliable to use effectively. Jan had seen her only once, with a sheet of very thick glass between them, but the memory of the tortured eyes glaring out of the twisted remnants of her face was still enough to make his skin crawl.

He brushed off the unpleasant memory and led the way to the locked lift which took them down to the back entrance to the labs. He didn't know his way around here, but a floor plan mounted on the wall offered directions to the "biological research" area. A nice term for it, he thought.

The steel corridors of the lower lab were dark, illuminated only by sporadic light fixtures. Jan hurried along, checking his progress frequently against the maps. He was well aware that he was operating under a serious time constraint, not only to save Annabelle's life, but also to get to his extraction point before the bomb was dropped. Even staying in the depths of the lab wouldn't save him; out of all the structures in the city, this was the one that was most likely to be obliterated, simply because Umbrella wouldn't want to leave any evidence of their involvement.

Their arrival in the "biological research" area was heralded by an ominous skittering, the sound of many legs moving at once. Jan immediately readied Matilda. Peering around the corner, he saw a scientist in a white lab coat beating frantically at something on the floor with the leg of a chair. He was obviously still alive and unscathed, but that didn't last long. As Jan watched, the creature he was attacking - it vaguely resembled a giant, skeletal, flesh-colored spider - ran around behind him, swarmed up his back, and neatly took his head off with its pincers. Then it proceeded to bury its front legs in the bloody stump of neck and drive the decapitated body like some obscene vehicle right towards where Jan was standing.

Even that didn't faze him, although it was a bit surprising. His superiors had never informed him about _this _little beauty. But no matter; his firm belief was that if something was alive, it could be killed. He coolly took aim and fired a burst from Matilda. The bullets tore through the head-tearing spider's soft body. It screeched in pain and lost its hold on the scientist's body, falling to the ground and writhing its legs as it died. The unfortunate man stumbled on for a few steps on pure motor reflex before collapsing.

"This just gets worse and worse," Annabelle breathed from just behind him. She too had witnessed the gruesome scene.

Jan reloaded his beloved pistol with his second-to-last clip. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Okay," she said. Her voice was distant, and he guessed that she was still stuck on the horror she'd just seen. "How could such a thing even exist?" she asked, not really speaking to him. "Why? What's the reason for it?"

"Greed and ambition," Jan replied, thinking of his boss. He couldn't imagine anyone more ambitious than Albert Wesker, or anyone whose ambition was quite as deadly. As for himself, he didn't care about leaving his mark on society or any of that crap. He didn't even care if anyone remembered him once he was dead. He just wanted to keep living in the way he was best at, spurring himself forward on the bodies of those left behind. He never for a moment forgot that he was only alive because he continued to kill.

"The vaccine should be around here, somewhere," he said, turning to Annabelle. "If we can find a scientist who hasn't had his head bitten off yet, we might be able to find it faster."

"How can you joke about that?" Annabelle demanded. "It's so … cruel."

"I wasn't joking," he replied. She had no response to that.

They had a choice of directions in front of them: the corridor split and with in opposite directions. Jan was about to head right out of a vague intuition when heavy footfalls echoed down the hallway. He turned his head with a feeling of dread, already recognizing that tread. Sure enough, a second tall, coat-wearing creature was striding towards them, identical to the first. Or maybe it was the same one. Jan didn't care. All that he knew was that it was worst thing that could have appeared at the moment.

"Run!" he hissed, shoving Annabelle roughly towards the right-hand corridor. "Get as far away as you can. I'll hold it here."

"Will you be okay?" she asked, somewhat anxiously.

As a matter of fact, he had great doubts whether or not he would survive this, but he just said, "Yes. Now go!"

Now, he thought, focusing Matilda on the creature's head and taking a steadying breath, I've got to make every shot count. I've got to kill this thing, or at least drive it away.

He began firing, giving ground slowly as the creature continued to advance, seemingly impervious to his bullets. Even when one of the shots struck it right in the eye, it barely flinched. Soon he was out. He jammed in his last clip, emptied that as well … and he was really and truly out of options. No more flashbangs, no more bullets. Melee fighting was not an option here.

An idea occurred to him: if he could manage to get around the creature in this narrow hallway, he could lead it in the other direction, and perhaps find some way to destroy it. At the very least, he might give Annabelle some time to escape and find a cure.

He started forward, ducking down at the thing took a swipe at him. He rolled immediately, and came up just past its legs, but he was unprepared for its speed in recovery. An iron hand seized the back of his tac vest and dragged him into the air. He dangled helplessly, spitting curses and flailing his arms and legs.

He felt his body go up in the air, and then he was slammed into the ground with enough force to make him black out for a few seconds. When he came to, it was so severe pain in his ribs. His stomach churned violently, and he tore off his helmet just in time to vomit blood onto the floor.

_Shit … this is really bad. I've got internal bleeding for sure. Maybe even serious organ damage. I've got to get to a doctor ASAP. _

At that moment, he realized that a pair of combat boots was hovering in his blurry vision. But they were normal size. Curious, he followed the body upwards with his gaze and saw a average-sized person, masked and cloaked. There was something strange about this person, though: it was like they were flickering in and out of existence. Only certain parts of them could be seen at any one time.

"What a surprise to see you here, HUNK, and in this condition," said the deep voice from inside the mask. "I thought you would have been out by now."


	6. Four Wolves

Chapter Six: Four Wolves

**I just seem to be getting lazier and lazier about updates, don't I. Well, this time I sort of have an excuse. I've been unexpectedly busy. But I hope you all enjoy this chapter. The story is nearing its end - probably no more than three more updates to go, but we'll see if the inspiration fairy strikes ... oh, and I realize that I took some liberties with the Wolfpack, but the truth is that I prefer VECTOR to LUPO, and I think that he should have been the leader. So please don't think that I just made a mistake - it was deliberate. Anyway, review and let me know what you all think! **

Jan almost smiled at the sight of the man, and restrained himself just in time. Max Veicht, codename VECTOR, was well-known to him, and one of the two people he knew he could trust to watch his back in dangerous situations. Jan had trained him personally as a child, putting him through the rigors of the Lone Wolf Program at Rockfort Island. Much as his own instructor had once seen promise in him, he saw promise in the hard-eyed, hard-voiced boy of ten and took extra pains over him. He had felt an additional bond, since they both shared German blood.

"Max," he grunted, getting laboriously to his feet and wiping away the remainder of blood on his face with the back of his gloved hand. "Where's the rest of your team?"

"Guarding the girl we found," replied Max, gesturing to the corridor behind him. "You might know her. She was very concerned about you." His even tone gave nothing away, although Jan was reasonable sure that he was amused.

"Annabelle." It was the first time her name had passed his lips. It felt rather natural, but he chose not to dwell on that. "She's infected with the T-virus."

"Not to worry, FOUR-EYES fixed that," said Max, naming his squad's virologist, a talented young Japanese woman. He gave Jan a searching glance and said, "You'd better let BERTHA fix you up. You don't look so good."

"All thanks to that asshole in the coat. By the way, I owe you one."

"Between us, I've long lost count of who owes who," Max said magnanimously. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and pulled Jan's arm over his shoulder, supporting the slightly taller man. Jan said nothing, but he was grateful for the support. It was painful even to breathe, let alone to move on his own.

As they hobbled down the corridor, Max filled him in on everything that had happened since they had parted company two days before. The Wolfpack leader, never once to mince words, was clearly pissed off. "Umbrella fucked us over," he declared. "As soon as the mission went to shit, they cut us off and told us we were on our own."

"What are you going to do now?" Jan asked. "They're going to nuke the city in less than two hours."

Max nodded. "I know. We're going to coast out of here on Umbrella's personal train. It's located on the lowest level. There should be plenty of time to get out of here. Are you coming?"

Jan didn't have to think about it very hard. "Yeah. That sounds like a good idea."

They turned a corner and Max stopped and knocked on a door. There was the sound of bolts being scraped back, and the door cracked open. A blonde woman peered out.

"Ah, VECTOR, you're back," she said in a heavily accented voice. "You have him. He needs medical attention, ja?"

"I would appreciate it," said Jan. Max hauled him inside and set him down on a bench. Before he had even had a chance to observe his surroundings, Annabelle jumped up from the corner where she was sitting, and ran to him.

"Jan!" she cried. "I thought you were dead!" To his shock, he noticed that her eyes were red and swollen, as though she'd been crying. Besides that, however, she seemed to be recovering from her near-zombie experience. Her skin had lost its grey tone, and the swelling in her arm had gone down. Jan felt a stab of relief, followed by surprise that he cared enough to be glad she was still alive.

_Was she crying over me? _he wondered. _Why? She doesn't even really like me. _Then he remembered that although this amount of action was fairly normal for him, it was a completely new experience for her to be in constant danger. People easily develop strong attachments even to perfect strangers during times of crisis. It was not unreasonable to assume that she had become somehow "bonded" to him.

But it was a pain, nonetheless. To forestall further embarrassment, he held up his hand and said, "You needn't have worried. Look, all in one piece."

"Then why is there blood around your mouth?" she asked shrewdly. Jan had no answer to that.

"Pull up your shirt," BERTHA commanded him. He did as he was told, and the medic brought out some sort of scanning device and began running it over his skin. As she read it, her frown grew deeper. "I am amazed you can stand, sir," she said. "Several of your ribs are badly broken and the sharp edges have torn up some muscles and are in imminent danger of piercing your lung. It would be wise not to move around very much until you can get to a hospital."

_Just great, _Jan thought. "Is there anything you can do in the meantime?" he asked.

BERTHA was already preparing a shot from an enormous needle. "I vill give you this," she said. "It vill numb the pain and slow the bleeding inside. But no more running around. You understand, ja?"

"Perfectly, thank you," he replied. BERTHA jammed the needle in his neck. After a few moments, he could feel the ache in his chest and stomach fading, to be replaced by a numbness which was disconcerting, considering that he could still feel all his extremities. It was as if he was just a head, arms, and legs that were disconnected and floating around. He shook his head, trying to clear away the sudden fog that seemed to come with the anesthetic.

"We … should go." The deep, grating voice came from a tall, slender man who had been standing unobserved in a shadowy corner. Unlike the women, he had a full helmet that was supplemented by some high-tech goggles, which were currently extended to the maximum distance. They have him a rather alien look, like a human snail. Jan remembered him as the fourth member of the Wolfpack - SPECTRE, the Russian soldier.

"That's a good idea," said Max. He looked Jan over again and held out a hand to pull him up from his seat. But Annabelle intervened, saying, "I'll help him. You'll all need to have both hands ready."

Jan scowled, but he didn't have much of a choice. The painkiller, combined with his recent injuries and lack of sleep had made him really unsteady on his feet. He would rather have leaned on Max than accepted assistance from the girl, but he had to agree that she had a point. Just because he would be useless if it came to a fight didn't mean he had to be a liability as well.

So he threw one arm around her shoulder and let himself lean on her as they trooped back out into the darkened corridor. SPECTRE took the lead, since his goggles enabled him to see and analyze any threats ahead of them. He was followed by BERTHA. Then came Jan and Annabelle, with the boy and Auguste sticking to them like little shadows. FOUR-EYES and Max came last, guarding the company against any rear assaults.

For a while, their progress was quite smooth. They encountered a few of the spider-like creatures, which they killed without difficulty. Jan, who was not easily impressed, found himself admiring the fluidity with which the Wolfpack moved, as if they were one single entity.

He was just beginning to feel that they might have an easy time of it after all when Annabelle suddenly let out a cry of recognition and dropped to her knees, leaving him to reach for the wall and steady himself. She came up a few minutes later with something in her hands that glinted gold. It was a delicate, heart-shaped locket. The chain it hung on had been broken by some violent force, and dried blood clung to the fine links.

"This is Mom's necklace!" the girl exclaimed, her face ashen. "She must be somewhere around here!"

The Wolfpack members exchanged a quick glance. "Keep moving," Max said roughly. "We don't have time for search parties."

Predictably, Annabelle stalked right up to him and growled, "Hey, these are my parents that you're talking about! You have to help me find them!"

Max turned and gave Jan a long stare. His expression was hidden behind his mask, but his meaning was clear: _Where did you find this girl? _

"Your family is not my responsibility," he said remorselessly. "If it weren't for you being with HUNK, I wouldn't even go out of my way to take you along. Don't push your luck by getting an attitude with me."

_That's the Max I trained, _Jan thought. _Normally, I would fully support him, but … that painful hope in her voice when she speaks of "parents" is just too similar to the way SHE used to sound. _

"Ten minutes won't make a difference in our overall plans," he said.

Max shook his head in disbelief. "I hardly believe it of you, HUNK. Well, do what you like, but I won't risk my life and the lives of my teammates. If its clear when we get to the train, I will delay leaving for fifteen minutes, but if you aren't there on time, I won't wait any longer. Got that?"

"Yes. I appreciate it."

Max hesitated for a moment longer, then pulled a few clips of ammo from his belt and pressed them into Jan's gloved hand. "Here. Just in case."

"Thanks again. Good luck."

"You too."

With that clipped but nonetheless heartfelt exchange, they parted ways. Jan turned immediately to the task in hand, filling Matilda with one of the spare clips. He tucked his beloved sidearm back into its holster and turned to Annabelle, only to find that she was gazing at him with unconcealed amazement.

"I never thought _you _would help me," she said. "All along, you've been telling me that I'm on my own, but just now you stood up for me! Why?"

Jan didn't reply, and understand crossed her features. "Oh, I get it. This is because of the mysterious person that I remind you of. You owe her some sort of debt, don't you, and you're trying to pay it off by helping me. At least, I assume your friend was a woman. I would hope that I don't remind you of a man."

"Yes, you're right, if you want to put it that way," he replied brusquely, irritated that she was prying again. "Now do you want me to help you find your parents, or do you want to stand around pestering me with useless questions all day."

Annabelle actually looked abashed for once, and said, "Yeah, let's get started. Shall we look together, or do you want to split up?"

"Together," he said at once. He wasn't going to lose her to some monster now after going to all this trouble to keep her alive.

"Okay. Let's try this way first." She pointed to a corridor branching off to the left. Her face was composed, but there was a tremor in her voice, and Jan could tell that she was just barely keeping her fear in check. Fear that something terrible had happened to the people that she loved.

It had been such a long time since he had known the meaning of fear. It was only a distant memory in his mind, a vague and heavy dream, but he found himself hoping for her sake that when they found her parents, they were still among the living.


	7. Fading

Chapter Seven:  
Fading

**I am back! After another long absence, I wrote this all at once. A little short, I'm afraid, but very action-packed. Thanks so much for all the support for this story! I treasure every review. So, that being said, continue reading and enjoying! **

It was silent as death down there, in the endless hallways, and dark and cold. Jan's breath ghosted ahead of him. The air sounded wet and strained as it left his lungs, and he knew that he was pushing his body far past its limits by continuing to walk around.

His footsteps echoed eerily on the walls as he trudged on, flashlight in one hand, Matilda in the other. He and Annabelle had been searching for ten minutes now, and they had developed a routine; the girl would open a door, and Jan would shine his beam of light inside. If there were any infected, they would ignore them and close the door. They couldn't afford to waste their precious bullets.

He was just about to try to find a way to convince her to give up the search and rejoin with the Wolfpack when Annabelle came upon a locked door. She turned to Jan in mute appeal, and he shot the lock off with a single, well-aimed bullet. Annabelle pushed the door open and gave a cry of joy.

"Mom!"

Jan peered into the room. There was a body lying on the floor, but only the legs could be seen. A man's, most likely, judging by the length and shape, and the large hiking boots. A woman was hunched over next to him, her face hidden from view.

Auguste growled.

"Mom, it's me!" Annabelle exclaimed, letting go of the boy's hand to run forward. "I've come to save you! We can get out of here, everything going to be alright …"

The woman began to turn her head, her movements slow and unnaturally jerky, and the dog erupted into barking. Alarm bells went off in Jan's mind. He lunged forward and grabbed Annabelle by the shoulder.

"Wait," he hissed.

She struggled to get free of him, and he had to wrap his arm around her torso to stop her. Her elbow caught him in the ribs, and he gasped and nearly fell to his knees. He seized the back of her neck in his free hand and dug his fingers in. The pain brought her back to her senses.

"Mom?" she called, taking a cautious step forward.

Jan aimed his flashlight directly on the woman's face. She was quite beautiful, an older version of Annabelle with the same round cheeks, short perky nose, and full lips. But these lips hung open and were smeared with something red that dripped down her chin and neck.

"Oh … my … God …" breathed Annabelle. Her face was so white it shone in the darkness. Her eyes, by contrast, were dark pools of horror and misery and grief. "No, no, no, please, no. It can't be, no …"

The infected woman straightened up with a groan, stretching her hands out towards them as she stumbled forward. The man beside her - Jan had to assume that it was Annabelle's father - rose up as well. He wasn't in quite as good condition; his throat had been chewed apart, leaving a gruesome hole and causing his head to hang awkwardly to one side.

It was fairly evident to Jan what had happened. Annabelle's father had arrived to find his wife already bitten. Not knowing that she was infected (or possibly not caring), he brought her to this room and locked them in. But she died, was revived by the virus, and attacked him. Now they were both dead.

There was a retching noise from Annabelle, and she bent over and vomited into a wastebasket. She was crying as well, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth open in a soundless wail. Jan felt a brief tightness in his chest, a feeling that he was quite unaccustomed to. It took him a minute to identify it as pity. He felt sorry for the girl.

He laid his hand on her back, wordlessly reaffirming his presence and support. She looked up at him, her face streaked with wetness.

"We need to go, Bella," he said. Then he winced when he realized his mistake. _She is not Bella, _he reminded himself, _no matter how similar she is. _

"Please," said Annabelle, "Can't you help them? That woman, FOUR-EYES, she can cure the disease, can't she? We could find her, bring her back here …"

"I'm sorry," said Jan. "Once they've fully turned, there's no way to fix it. I know it's hard, but your parents are already dead. It's just the virus that's controlling them and making them move. If we were to administer the cure, they would just become regular corpses again."

The girl bit her lip hard enough to make blood run trickle from the corner of her mouth. "Then I want you to shoot them both, right now," she said. "I can't leave them like this. Shoot them, please."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes, do it. Please."

Slowly, he raised Matilda. Two shots, two bullets. Two more casualties of the Raccoon City Incident. At the last moment, right before he fired, Annabelle turned her head and buried her face in his shoulder. He twitched, instinctively wanting to push her away, but he restrained himself and let her cling to him and weep. After a minute or so, she pulled back and wiped her eyes, her jaw set with new determination.

"Let's get the hell out of here," she said.

Jan agreed wholeheartedly. Taking a firm hold on her wrist, he pulled her after him through the doorway and out into the corridor.

"Now," he muttered, "which way to the train?"

He had no warning. One moment, they were running down the hallway together, and the next, he was smashing through the wall to his right. The tyrant's roar sounded belatedly in his ears, strangely muted. It was accompanied by a sound like someone slogging through thick mud. And there was warm, sticky liquid too … dazed, he raised his hand to the side of his head and drew it away stained crimson.

Annabelle screamed something - he thought it was his name - and he tried to get to his feet, but every nerve in his body exploded in a burst of fire. Curiously, his brain stayed calm, and although he could feel himself writhing and yelling in pain, the only thought in his mind was, _I think this qualifies as going against doctor's orders. _

The tyrant was a blurry shape in his line of vision as it stalked towards him, apparently determined to finish what it had started. Jan raised his arm (he had no idea if he was holding Matilda or not, but he assumed he was) and pulled the trigger. A lamp on a desk off to his right shattered as the bullet passed through it. Wow, not even remotely where he was aiming. He must really be messed up if his shooting was this bad.

The creature looked down at him with cold red eyes and raised a massive hand. Jan tried to roll out of the way, but his body just wasn't listening to him anymore. The hand crashed down on his midsection with all the force of an avalanche. Something broke underneath him, and he fell a little ways, only to be stopped by a solid surface. He must have been lying across a table.

The pain was so intense now that it felt like the sun itself was inside his chest, scorching him from the inside out. He could feel his body convulsing, rising up a few inches and slamming back onto the floor, his arms and legs twitching out of his control like the limbs of a marionette dancing on a string. His eyes took in a long streak of sights as his head rolled from side to side.

All of a sudden there were small hands grabbing his tac vest, pulling him to the side. Just in time too; the tyrant's foot came down, missing him by millimeters and smashing a hole through the floor.

He slid across the tiles, leaving a trail of blood behind him, dragged along by whoever was gripping his vest. The figure looked too small to be Annabelle, and the hair was wrong. Ah, it was the boy, whose name he didn't even know. The boy was trying to get him to safety, leaning back and hauling with all his might, then falling over as Jan moved a few inches, then standing up and pulling again.

If the boy was here, then where was Annabelle? He made a brief attempt to raise his head, but was unable to summon the strength. The world was going dark around him, and it came to him in a flash that he was dying. He injuries from this last attack had been too severe for his already damaged body to combat. The Grim Reaper had finally met his match.

The thought didn't disturb him too much. After all, the price of living is that you will eventually die. He had removed too many people from this world to feel much distress at leaving himself. If anything, it was a bit of a relief. No more struggle. No more killing. Just peace and quiet and a cold dark grave.

He barely even saw the boy freeze in place, his little fingers still clenched in Jan's vest. He barely felt himself rise up in the air, the tyrant's hand clamped onto his stomach. He barely heard Annabelle's scream.

_This is it, _he thought. And then he was flying with rather astonishing velocity, hurled away by a tremendously forceful throw.

He fell with a splash in some sort of liquid, which immediately entered his body through his ears and nose and open mouth. The pain faded into numbness, the fire in his chest into a comfortable warmth. His muscles relaxed and stopped trembling. And with a sigh, his last breath escaped his lungs and went floating up to the surface in a cloud of bubbles.

**I realize that the ending of this chapter sounds pretty bad, but don't worry - I wouldn't kill off HUNK like that! I will try my best to update soon and not keep you all waiting. **


	8. Red

Chapter 8: Red

**Dear Readers ... my most sincere apologies for the horrible gap between chapters. I have many (good) excuses, the chief one being that I ran dry on inspiration. I was also working on other projects, and I've been searching for a real job, and my house burned down and all my great-grandparents died and once and I broke both my arms. Okay, I got a little carried away there. But I have been very busy. Sorry. I hope that you're all still interested in reading my story. Anyway, enjoy! I'll try to update sooner next time (honestly!). **

Bella was standing in front of him, smiling her sweet, whimsical smile. He threw his arms around her, feeling the irrational relief that comes when you wake from a horrifyingly realistic dream. He kissed her face and her lips and she responded to him, a living, breathing being. Not an illusion. Not a ghost. His Bella, risen from the grave as whole and perfect as when she went into it.

He wondered dazedly if he was still asleep beside Bella in their shared room in the Rockfort Island Training Center. Had he really dreamt it all? Bella's death at his unknowing hands, his subsequent appointment as a merc for Umbrella, all the people he had killed and the information he had stolen. Could it have been just a nightmare?

But then Bella began to shift and change in his arms. Her short brown hair lightened and developed pink streaks. Her green eyes changed their hue to the purest blue. Her nose became more perky, her cheeks rounder, her forehead broader. He thought: I have seen this girl before. But where?

"Jan," the girl sobbed. "Jan, answer me please! Don't be dead!"

_Dead? _he tried to say. _Why would I be dead? _But his jaws wouldn't work properly, and he couldn't open his mouth to form words.

"This is all my fault!" wailed the girl. "If only I hadn't insisted that we go off and look for my parents … If only we'd stuck with your friends … I'm so sorry, Jan. I never meant for this to happen!"

There was a rumbling noise, and she turned to look over her shoulder with a gasp of terror. A huge, hulking form was standing there. It stretched out its massive hand towards her, a cold glint of murderous intent in its red eyes.

Jan stood up. His body felt … different, somehow. His movements were faster and more fluid. It was amazing how little muscular effort everything required. He reached forward and stopped the giant hand with his own.

The monster roared in astonishment and brought its other hand around to swat him away, but he was already behind it. Before it could move, he jumped up on its back. A single blow of his fist put a crater in the thing's smooth skull. His mind told him that what he was doing was impossible, but his body replied, _no problem! This is easy! _

The creature fell to its knees, and he delivered another swift blow that destroyed the head almost completely. Then he stepped away from the corpse, wiping the blood off his hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked the girl, who was staring at him as though transfixed.

"You … you … you were dead!" she babbled incoherently. "I saw you, you were dead. No - no pulse. You weren't breathing! How can you be alive?"

Jan shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. I feel fine."

"That thing killed you!" she shrieked. There was a hysterical glint in her eyes. "I saw it! It smashed every bone in your body! My God, Jan, I saw it happen. Don't tell me I was mistaken; I wasn't. You're dead."

He did have vague memories of lying on the ground, bleeding and unable to move. But that seemed so far away, like it had happened to another person and not him.

"That's it," he said. "Not me. It was someone else. I'm …" he stopped. Who was he, really? Not Jan Wittman, the boy who only knew how to hurt and kill, who had buried his broken heart under a thick layer of steel. Not HUNK, the hardened soldier who carried out Umbrella's orders without question and _always _got the job done. But who?

He remembered an old story he had heard. "Lazarus," he said.

The girl stared.

"He died, and then he lived again."

"Oh my God," said the girl. She seemed to be fond of that phrase. "When you fell into that weird-looking blue water … it must have done something to you." She took a step towards him and gingerly reached out to touch his face. "Jan … your eyes … they're red! Oh … oh no …"

"What?"

"You're one of _them _now! You're going to kill me, aren't you!"

"No, Bella." Wait, that wasn't her name. Bella was the other girl. The one he'd loved. This was Annabelle.

"Trust me," he said authoritatively. "I'll get you out of here." He wasn't sure why, but he had a strong urge to protect her, to keep her safe.

"How? That guy you called Max said that the whole place is going to blow up! We've probably already missed the train!"

He laughed. It was such a pathetic concern. Scooping her up in his arms, he began to run. Slowly, at first, but then he began to build up speed. There was so much potential. It was amazing how fast he could go. Like flying …

The first tremors were already shaking the building. The ceiling was collapsing in great chunks of concrete and steel, but to Jan, they looked like they were falling in slow motion. He dodged them all with ease.

They entered a huge open shaft that stretched to blackness above and below. The only way across was a thin, insufficient-looking walkway. Annabelle shrieked and pressed her face into Jan's shoulder when she saw it.

"Trust me," he said again, and started out onto the bridge, going slower now. The metal trembled under his feet, and creaked ominously, but still he felt no fear.

They were about ten feet from the other side when a particularly large tremor caused the walkway to twist and buckle. Jan staggered a little and kept going. Nine feet … eight … seven …

With an ear-splitting screech, the end of the bridge tore away from the wall and the whole structure plunged downwards. At the same moment, Jan lunged forwards and up. His right arm stretched out and caught the edge of the corridor that the walkway connected to. With his left arm, he boosted Annabelle to safety, and then pulled himself after her.

"You're amazing, Jan," she said, looking at him strangely. "But I'm sure you couldn't do that before."

Jan shrugged. Truthfully, he was a little surprised himself, but it wouldn't do to give that away. Besides, the change was not unwelcome. His body functioned much more effectively now that it had before. It would make him terrifying force on the battlefield - more so than ever before. With a little pleasurable shiver, he wondered if he could even take on Wesker now. He had always believed that Wesker was beatable, if only he could figure out the man's secret. Well, it was less impressive than he'd thought. A short bath in a chemical formula, and he could do all the same things. And perhaps more …

A map on the wall indicated that they weren't far from the train. He grabbed Annabelle again and sprinted down the corridor, around a corner, and down a long set of stairs. There was an elevator of course - never underestimate the laziness of scientists, Jan thought - but it was much to dangerous to use. Besides, he was just as fast now.

The door at the bottom of the stairs was locked. Apparently, Max and his team had used a different way. It was not an obstacle; Jan laid it open with one kick and continued through into the large room where the train was kept.

It had already departed, but he could still hear the roar of the wheels and the hum of the electric track. He sped up.

Within a minute, the carriage was in sight. It was just about to enter the tunnel that would take it under the decimated city and out to safety. Once it reached that point, its speed would be too much even for him to conquer.

At the very last moment, Jan gathered his strength and jumped. The last leap up from the sinking bridge had been nothing compared to this one. It was for a single second as though time stood still. The train, the collapsing building … all was frozen in place. Only he was moving through it undeterred.

Then his feet landed on the very edge of the platform. He wobbled for an instant before falling forward, catching himself on one knee. He set Annabelle down. She was trembling so hard that she could barely stand on her own.

The door at the back of the train slid open and Max stepped out, his assault rifle pointed at them. He blinked several times and lowered it, exclaiming, "I'll be damned! How did you manage that? We waited the allotted time and longer, but at last we had to go. We all thought you were both dead!"

Jan smiled grimly. "Never underestimate me," he said.


End file.
